


Flirt / Lust / Love

by LiquidLobotomy



Series: A Good Man Goes to War [14]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Awkward First Times, Book: Exploring Azeroth: The Eastern Kingdoms - Christie Golden, Book: Shadows Rising - Madeleine Roux Spoilers, Developing Relationship, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Mild Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Terror by Torchlight, The treasury heist, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiquidLobotomy/pseuds/LiquidLobotomy
Summary: For Mathias Shaw, falling in love with Flynn Fairwind seemed to have been a simple three-part process. So, why did it take him so long to say the words?
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, Mathias Shaw/Edwin VanCleef [mentioned]
Series: A Good Man Goes to War [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923286
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	1. Flirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When you fall for someone's words_  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue has been lifted from in-game quests, gossip, and scenarios, however paraphrased to create more organic conversation to serve my purposes. Subtitles are MOSTLY from quest titles or pieces of dialogue.

**A Glance In My Direction**

They were late.

Mathias Shaw stood at the rail of the _Wind’s Redemption_ , watching out across the Harbor into the Tradewinds Market. His eyes scanned over the bustle of champions pouring in to join the war efforts as they mingled with the locals of the city. He was no stranger to people watching, but the fact that he was searching the crowd for the trio of recruits he had sent ahead with Lady Proudmoore had set him on edge. 

The rookies had come highly recommended by both his second and his recruiter, all three exhibiting exemplary skills for the organization. While unconventional choices, a demon hunter and two void elven outlaws, they had proven to have the wits to uphold the principles of SI:7 as well as the eagerness to get their hands dirty for a mission. He had been impressed, to say the least, and therefore set them to the highly important task of escorting her Ladyship to her homeland. 

To say that he was disappointed to hear that they not only had been captured, but that Jaina had also been taken was well, an understatement.

His eyes shifted to the clanking sound of armor approaching, but he didn’t turn his head away from the commotion of the market below. Instead, he bent forward to lean his arms against the rail. He rested a boot on top of the other, not quite crossing his legs and letting his ankle rest against his good shin just as a steaming cup of coffee entered his vision.

“Shouldn’t you be off consecrating temples or some such?” Shaw muttered as he eyed the mug.

“I managed to swipe this from the harbormaster’s office,” Halford Wyrmbane offered, ignoring the spymaster’s comment. “From what I’m told, you’re easier to deal with once a cup’s in your hand and as far as I can tell, this is some of the best I’ve ever had.”

Mathias accepted the coffee and took a sip while scanning the area for his operatives once more. Halford wasn’t wrong, on both accounts, but he wasn’t about to say it aloud. Even with the paladin commander standing at his side and watching the harbor with him.

A clatter across the promenade drew his attention. His keen eyes narrowed with rapt curiosity at a lumbering man in an oilskin greatcoat stumbling across the market stalls jovially and quite loudly speaking with the traders. Quite frankly, he was making a right arse of himself, gesticulating wildly like a drunken fool. There was something about the way his auburn boar’s tail caught the hazy sunlight, the carefree smile he flashed to everyone he passed by, and most of all the lilting tenor of his distinct accent that carried across the harbor that unsettled the stoic spymaster.

“How many campaigns does this make for you, Wyrmbane?” he asked curiously, cradling the cup between his hands to warm them.

“Oh, I’ve stopped counting,” the paladin rasped. “But then, you’re no stranger to battle, either. Are you, Shaw?”

Mathias shook his head. “However, SI:7 was built for behind the scenes work. I’d rather stay in the shadows where I’m not so _exposed_.” His eyes flicked back to the market to find them locked with the stranger he had been trailing for the past few minutes. A smirk played across the man’s lips and he threw a quick wink in his direction. Shaw’s brow knitted in frustration at being caught, turning his attention away and towards the commander.

“I must admit, Shaw, I have questioned the need for spies and assassins among our ranks. But, your honor and loyalty is beyond question.” Mathias clicked his jaw, not quite used to being complimented so openly. “But when this war is over, what will you be left with?”

Mathias looked back across the harbor thoughtfully. The man had disappeared from his watch, and he managed to catch sight of his recruits being escorted by a local cadet across the market on the path towards the _Redemption’s_ berth.

“The next war,” he replied humbly, “and the one after that.”

**What You May Regret**

Mathias had just finished briefing a pair of mages at his operations table when he was approached by a weary King Greymane, the grave look on the old worgen’s human face giving him pause. 

“Your Majesty,” he greeted with a slight bow of his head and a raise of a crimson eyebrow. “I take it you’re not here with good news,” he observed. 

“My apologies, Spymaster. I’ve had two of your operatives pulled for an errand of a _personal_ nature,” replied Genn.

Shaw crossed his arms. So that’s where those two had run off to. He was aware that a pair of his recruits hadn’t checked in after their last missive and he had questioned Halford if they had been sent back out into the field without his knowledge. The paladin had merely shrugged at the time.

“A personal errand?” he asked coolly. 

“I’m sure word has reached you on Ashvane’s coup,” the old worgen began, barely concealing the growl in his tone. 

“I am aware, yes.”

“Lady Katherine has had a change of heart and wishes to locate her daughter. I’ve sent them to the foundry offices to scout evidence to her whereabouts. I’ve told them to bring anything they find to the harbormaster.”

Mathias would be lying if he wasn’t curious himself regarding the intel his operatives could gather. He nodded a thanks to the old king, turning to Alleria at the other end of the mission table. “Can you manage here for a bit?”

“Of course, Shaw,” she replied, inclining her head as a gesture for him to take his leave. He moved swiftly across the deck, crossing the gangplank and down the wooden steps to slip just inside the entranceway of the harbormaster’s office. He ducked into the shadows as he heard the exuberant tenor of a local conversing with Crestfall, the same stranger he had spied across the harbor weeks before. 

“So I says to the poor guff,” the man slurred, “I says, ‘Mate, you wouldn’t know a hozen’s face from his arse!’” He slammed a hand on Crestfall’s desk with a deep hearty laugh spilling from his lips. “Or their ooker from their dooker. Whichever way you want to look at it. And what’s worse,” he paused to expel a quiet burp before bringing an amber flask to his mouth, “last I heard, he married the poor girl.”

The spymaster rolled his eyes from the darkened corner, fighting back a sigh that would reveal his presence. It seemed that his first impression of the man had been spot on: he wasn’t much more than a bumbling, blathering idiot too far into the drink than what could be useful.

Cyrus shook his head with a smile on his face. “I swear by the Tides, Flynn, I don’t know what I’m ever going to do with you,” he mused. 

“Oh, come off it,” Flynn pretended to whinge. “You know you love my stories.” Mathias’ glance flickered towards the door at the telltale sound of light footsteps, his operatives, entering the office and approaching the man, his attention pulling towards them. “Hey, Crime-Buddy,” he greeted enthusiastically, “and… Crime-Buddy’s friend. Wait, what was your name again? Margaret, or some such?”

The demon hunter simply glowered at him. Mathias’ lips pressed into a small smile, bemused that his recruit refused to supply her name to him. Not that the daft sod would be able to pronounce it properly. 

“Right then, whatever. What can I do you for?”

“King Greymane sent us on a fact-finding mission to gather intel on the location of Lady Jaina,” replied the void elf agent.

“You lot and your _missions_ ,” Flynn groused. “You fight monsters, unite kingdoms, and now you think you’re gonna save a princess. You really do take this ‘hero’ shit to heart, don’t you?” Mathias caught him flick a glance past the rookies and in his direction with a tilt of his head. “I just hope it doesn’t catch.”

“We found this.” The rendorei handed a thick parcel of documents over to the man.

“Ooo, a _contract_ ,” Flynn chirped, straightening with wide eyes. “Let’s take a look-see, shall we? Maybe there’s something in the fine print.” Shaw’s brow furrowed as the man flipped through the pages, his eyes roaming the text swiftly. 

“Contract for services is hereby made by Ashvane et cetera,” he muttered. “Ugh, who writes this shit?” He licked his middle finger before turning a page. “Description of services the carrier will supply to the client, blah, blah, blah… Ten pages of security measures.” Another section of pages perused with ease. “Twenty pages of liability conditions.” Flick, Flick, Flick. “More definitions, more terms of service, legal horsecock that would never hold up in court unless the judge were crooked...”

Mathias tucked an arm across his chest, his other hand tugging at the thatch of hair of his chin. He scrutinized the man named Flynn as he read and moreover, _understood_ the text contained within a thirty page legal contract. He couldn’t have taken more than two full minutes going over the documents. It shook him to realize that perhaps there actually _was_ more to this buffoon than he had given him credit for, and wasn’t that startling.

Flynn shrugged, tossing the contract onto Cyrus’ desk. “Well, I’d hoped maybe Jaina’s location was somewhere buried in the fine print, but no such luck. I mean, even in this absolute shitshow of legalese and double-talk, I can confirm that Ashvane’s been doing business with the Irontide.” He puffed out his cheeks as he blew out a hard breath. “Guess we’re off to Freehold,” he remarked with a click of his jaw. “Again. Joy.”

Mathias didn’t fail to notice the reluctance lacing the man’s tenor. Ensuring that his stealth was still in place, he snuck back out the door before the group could detect his eavesdropping.

What he _did fail_ to notice was Flynn’s attention drawing on him as he slipped out.

**And Following Seas**

A scrolled and sealed parchment dropped unceremoniously on top of the map laid out on the mission table as Shaw bent over it with an attempt of strategizing missions for champions and operatives. He raised his eyes to find Captain Fairwind across from him, bouncing on his toes with a lopsided grin plastered across his face.

“Why, my fair spymaster, fancy seeing you here,” Fairwind drolled. “D’you come ‘round here often?”

Mathias slowly straightened to his full height, flicking a glance at Windrunner and Feathermoon as he did so. He found himself a titch disturbed at the way they turned away from him conspiratorially.

“I… work here,” he replied carefully, his brow knitted as he tried to figure out the captain’s angle.

“Right, right. _Work_.” Fairwind gave a quick nod towards the scroll proudly. “That’s why I, too, am here. Azerite report, as you requested.”

Shaw clicked his jaw as he plucked the document from the table, slipping a finger deftly under the seal and unrolling the parchment. He lifted his eyes from the page to glower at the beaming captain.

“I can’t read this.”

Fairwind’s face screwed up indignantly. “Why not? It’s in Common.”

“Is it?”

“Whassat s‘posed to mean?”

Mathias rolled his eyes and handed the scroll back. “Your penmanship is abysmal, Fairwind. You can do better,” he admonished. “Bring it back when I can read it clearly.”

The captain took the page and looked it over, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Want for me to put little hearts on the ‘i’s’?” he purred.

“I _want_ to be able to read it legibly so it can be filed with the reports to be sent to the King,” Shaw retorted. “You know, the man who is _paying_ you?” He raised an eyebrow, and gave the captain a once over when he hadn’t moved. “That’s all,” he added dismissively.

Fairwind threw him a lecherous smirk. “I’ll have it back to you in a bell’s chime,” the man chirped with a quick salute before turning on his heel to skitter back down the gangplank.

Mathias let out an exasperated breath. “Where were we?” he muttered as he tried to draw his attention back to the maps. He looked up to find the two women watching him with amusement. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alleria replied with a shake of her head. “Just enjoying the show, Shaw.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, come now,” Shandris admonished. “You do realize he only comes aboard to flirt spectacularly with you. Which is what, every other day or so?”

Shaw flicked his eyes between the pair of elves indignantly. Menaces, the both of them.

“There are still several missions we need to delegate, _ladies_ ,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Would it be too much to ask to conduct ourselves with a level of decorum?”

The two looked at each other and attempted to stifle their grins before giving a nod. For centuries old creatures, they certainly knew how to act like younglings, Mathias thought to himself.

However, when he went back to skimming over the list of missives, the wandering thought of what Shandris had said danced at the back of his mind. Fairwind came around to _flirt_ with him. To his shock, he absently found that he didn’t mind all that much.

**A Simple Plan**

In comparison to the brisk winds of Boralus Harbor, Xibala was positively _sweltering_.

Shaw could feel the beads of perspiration rolling between his shoulder blades under his guild leathers as they stood at the meeting point waiting. Jaina mentioned that two others were to join them shortly, setting his thin patience ready to snap. He wanted to get this mission over with, finding himself wanting for the chill of the sea breeze he had grown accustomed to as of late. His eyes slid to his operative assigned to the mission and almost envied her; the Illidari stood still and calm, not even a sheen of sweat on her brow. He couldn’t even cross his arms without them sticking together. Must be that strange fel constitution.

A dark, pitchless hum rang through the small encampment, jarring Shaw from his train of thought. His eyebrow raised as a pool of shadowy energy opened before them, revealing two figures crossing onto the clay soil from what he could only describe as a dimension of endless void. 

Magister Umbric stepped aside the portal with an aura of arrogance that Shaw could feel from where he stood with his operative. The spymaster was no stranger to the rendorei, having a few of them recruited to the organization now. Those in his service were not nearly as defiant as he had found their de facto leader to be, however. That the Magister had agreed to assist in this mission was surprising, to say the least. Behind the elf stumbled a burly creature spouting complaints and curses while trying to straighten his great coat.

Captain Fairwind. Fan _tastic_.

“That was bloody awful. Felt like my insides were on the outside,” Fairwind groused as he brushed himself off, turning his attention to the Lord Admiral. “Jaina!” he crowed, crossing to her in two long legged strides. “Smashing to have you back, sweetheart.” Shaw couldn’t quite contain the deep roll of his eyes when the captain leaned in and pressed a kiss against her cheek, earning a soft giggle.

“Alright, Captain, that’s enough,” replied Jaina with a playful smirk, leading him over to where the Shaw and the Illidari were waiting. “I’ve been made aware that you’ve already made acquaintances with Master Shaw.”

“That’s not how I would put it,” the spymaster muttered under his breath.

“Of course!” Fairwind drolled merrily, shooting a wink over to the older man. “Shaw and I go _way_ back. And… and…” The captain gestured at the operative at the spymaster’s side with a few snaps of his fingers. “Anna…karenina?”

The demon hunter turned her head to her superior as if to give him an incredulous glance before lifting an eyebrow at Fairwind again. “No,” she said evenly.

“Crime-Buddy, then,” he sighed defeatedly. “Oh well. Back at it again, eh?”

“Magister, I think we’re ready to get underway,” Jaina interrupted, barely concealing her amusement.

“Give me a few moments to find a secure path through. I’ll have to shroud the portal so it won’t be detected by the wards. I believe that we have eliminated any potentially unfortunate side effects.”

“By _side effects_ ,” Fairwind raised his hand, “do you mean the shadowy tentacles or the descent into madness? Asking for a friend.”

Shaw rubbed his forehead with a sigh. “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your attention that this is a _serious_ mission, Captain.”

“I am being serious,” Fairwind squawked. “I mean, have you _met_ my friends? Tentacles would definitely be an improvement.” Shaw didn’t even get the chance to groan when the captain’s face lit up with delight. “Say, are we allowed to make any additional withdrawals from the treasury while we’re at it?”

“ _Fairwind_ —“

“Are you gentlemen quite finished?” Umbric cut in. Shaw didn’t fail to hear the scathing annoyance in his tone. “We’re ready.” The rendorei stood to the side of the portal, gesturing the group forward.

“Good luck,” Jaina nodded as they were sucked into the void.

@}—>—

Shaw consulted his map as Fairwind stumbled into the room, the portal snapping shut behind them. His operative stood to the side, barely throwing a blindfolded glance towards the captain as he righted himself to sidle up to them. The spymaster pocketed the parchment and made a few hand gestures, the demon hunter slipping off into another corridor.

“Where is she off to then?” Fairwind asked with a nod in the direction she had taken.

“There’s more than one corridor, she’s scouting the one we’re not taking. We’ll meet up closer to the drop point.”

“Isn’t that a bit counter-productive?”

“She’s more than capable, Fairwind.” He gave the other man a quick once over, a furrow in his brow. “We proceed quickly and quietly. And we do _Not. Touch. Anything_. Understood?”

“You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Good. This way.”

They started down the hallway before them, Shaw scanning for any traps that could be triggered or wards that could detect them. He felt the presence near him stall and he flicked a glance over his shoulder.

“Now what?”

“I think that golem just moved, mate,” Fairwind whispered. Shaw followed his eyeline to a stone golem roughly ten paces away from them. His eyes narrowed in the dark, the slightest shift of movement in the stone. “Yep! Definitely moving!”

“Take it down!” Shaw growled, quickly releasing his daggers, Fairwind cocking a popshot from his flintlock at the head of the protector. Between the two of them, they made quick work of the guardian, Shaw sidestepping out of the way when it toppled over backwards, dormant and crumbling.

“So much for quietly,” the captain murmured. “ _This_ is going to be an exciting trip.”

“We shouldn’t linger.” Fairwind nodded in agreement, sheathing his cutlasses and pulling out his pistol once more as he followed. 

“Would you look at this _obviously_ safe room. What say we run right on in, hm?” Fairwind quipped as they approached the next hallway.

Shaw shot out an arm to stop the captain from moving further. “The floor is full of lightning charges and fire traps.”

“Sarcasm? What’s that?” Fairwind groused. “Hey!” he added as the spymaster plucked his pistol from his hand and took aim across the hall. One deft little shot and the bullet pinged against a small golden mask in an alcove, the floor emitting a surge before going dark. Shaw flipped the flintlock in his hand easily and held the butt out to Fairwind. 

“Right. The floor is lightning,” he murmured as the gun passed into his hand.

“Fewer quips, more focus, Captain.” Shaw took a tentative step onto the tile, testing the waters and motioning to move forward when nothing happened.

“Who the blazes designs this shit, anyway?” the captain fussed, reloading his pistol and keeping it at the ready as he kept less than a pace behind Shaw. “Don’t get me wrong, points for style, but isn’t this all a titch too complicated? Imagine having to navigate flaming _doom_ just to filch some Anchorweed from your deposit box.”

“Something tells me the Zandalari do not keep _Anchorweed_ down here, Fairwind,” Shaw retorted as they sidestepped a statue bespelled to trigger a sweep of the heavy weapon in its hand.

They paused in the next chamber, coming to a fork in the road. Shaw attempted to pull out his map, but the captain stayed his hand.

“This way,” he said with an inclination of his head towards the right fork. The spymaster tilted his head to gaze down the hallway past him, bringing his eyes back to fix Fairwind with a pointed look.

“Towards the piles of gold and obvious riches just pouring into the treasury,” he scoffed with a click of his jaw.

“Gotta think like a pirate, mate,” the captain clapped him on the back. “If this Scepter-whatsit’s so bloody valuable, it’d be in there, amirite?”

Shaw flicked a scathingly dangerous look. “Fine,” he growled, gesturing for the other man to lead the way. 

They took the corridor carefully, dispatching another pair of golems and tripping a wind trap. Soon enough, they were descending a flight of golden steps towards the heart of the treasury when the room began to rumble. Shaw shot out his hand, grabbing the back of the captain’s greatcoat.

“Stop!”

“What the fuck are you— Oh…” Fairwind’s words died as the pile of gold and jewels took form, towering menacingly in the room. What better sentinel for a treasure trove than to magically have the treasure guard _itself?_ “That’s… not what I expected,” breathed the captain.

“Come on,” Shaw muttered softly. “We should try another route.”

They backtracked to the fork, the Illidari meeting them from the opposite path.

“Security’s getting a wee bit tight, Fifi-Trixabelle,” Fairwind greeted her with a thumb thrown over his shoulder. “Almost as tight as our beloved spymaster, here.” 

Shaw rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “For fuck’s sake, why are you like this?”

“Language!” Fairwind chirped, pretending to be offended. “That’s a filthy fucking mouth, you have on you, Master Shaw.”

“ _Fairwind,_ ” Shaw warned through clenched teeth.

“Sir?” The Illidari did not bely her impatience. “I’ve found the chamber. Route is clear, but the altar is warded with a trap I’m not familiar with.”

“Lead the way,” he commanded, adding “not _one_ word, Fairwind.” The captain mimicked locking his mouth as he fell in step on the heels of the spymaster.

They made it to the armory —and wasn’t Shaw kicking himself for not thinking about the artifact being housed here— in record time. He scanned the room. At the center was a stone altar, the Abyssal Scepter hovering in a magical stasis above the slab with several beams of pure energy dancing around to protect it. A small console embedded into the altar blinked in different colored lights, the control panel he would need to disassemble. He counted at least five of the protectorate golems stationed about the room and four larger golden masks hanging ominously on the wall. 

Right, then.

“You two hold them off while I work,” he directed, leading them into the room and making a straight line for the panel. He deftly dodged the beams to crouch as close as he could get to the board, taking out his kit to pick the cover to reveal a series of complicated locks. _Fun._

The room rumbled around him, but he tried to drown the noise out, concentrating on the first lock. He faintly registered the clang of glaives and cutlasses, the odd pistol shot from Fairwind’s flintlock shouting across the room. The first lock finally clicked undone and he heard the captain call out to him as he set to the second.

“Need any help? Tips? I’ve disabled my fair share of traps before. Worked my way around chastity belts and _corsetry_ , too.”

Shaw’s hands trembled and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. “It’s a complicated mechanism, Captain,” he grunted. “Disabling it requires patience. Finesse.”

“Finesse a bit faster, mate!”

The spymaster shook out his hands and set to the third lock. Two more after this. He chanced a quick glance over his shoulder to find his companions up to their arses in fighting Zandalari masks. He blew out a breath and set his tongue between his teeth as the lock gave under his deft fingers, the light blinking out. He moved on to the fourth.

“Honestly, how’s it going back there? You almost done?”

Shaw growled. “Are a few mystical masks too much for the _infamous_ Flynn Fairwind?”

Fairwind’s rumbling laugh cut through the pollution of noise and sent a shiver down his spine. “While your concern is touching, mate, It’s going to take more than this stone golem to get the best of me,” the captain panted. “Come to think of it, this angry stone golem kind of reminds me of my last ex.”

“You’re driving me to distraction, Captain,” barked Shaw. “One more,” he muttered under his breath, the fifth lock coming under the wrath of his toolkit. He absently registered that the room had grown quiet save for the hum of the last beam circling him and the stasis field containing the Scepter. He closed his eyes as he flicked his wrist. The lights around him died, only the faint glow of the magic above the slab illuminating his hands. “Got it.”

Shaw rose to his full height and took a step back, turning to assess the detritus left behind him. The pair looked a little worse for wear, but no injuries that he could ascertain. 

“You have the decoy, Agent,” he remarked as he crossed to stand next to Fairwind. “Go ahead and do the honors so we can get out of here.” He folded his arms and and raised a brow, “And _be careful._ ”

“ _Don’t worry._ Georgia Moffett’s got this,” the captain soothed, his hands spread.

Shaw didn’t have a chance to contemplate the exact form his face contorted into as he shot the other man a gloriously incredulous look. His thoughts were interrupted as a gate came crashing open once the Scepter had been swapped, and the treasury’s sentinel slid into the room with a deafening roar that could put a devilsaur to shame.

“ _Now_ do we worry?” He groused, grabbing the demon hunter by the wrist to pull her away from the altar.

“Nope, nope. _Now_ , we run.”

Fairwind turned on his heel and sprinted down the corridor, Shaw and his operative on his heels. He slid around a corner, the other two following suit and all too soon, the void portal appeared, the trio launching through, the wall of void energy slamming down before the titanic gold elemental could follow. Quick as a flash, the three of them landed in a heap at the feet of the Magister, back in the humid misery of Xibala. Shaw groaned, his shin set to squeal and his back unaccepting of the weight of the other two piled on top of him.

“Something touched my leg!” Fairwind cried from the middle of the bodily sandwich they found themselves in. “Wait, wait, no. It’s just my dick. We’re good.”

Shaw rolled his eyes as he heard the stifled giggle of the Lord Admiral hovering above them. Finally he found respite as Jaina and Umbric helped the pair off of him. A calloused hand covered in a leather fingerless glove appeared in front of his face and he glanced up to find Fairwind on the other end. Reluctantly, he accepted and let the burly Kul Tiran haul him to his feet. He didn’t dare find his voice in an offer of thanks.

“Were we successful, then?” Jaina asked, more mirthful than Shaw would have liked. The demon hunter stepped forward and held out the Scepter. The sorceress took it gingerly and wrapped it in a square of mageweave. “Well done. Portal?” 

“Light, yes,” Shaw exhaled. “Get us the _fuck_ out of this heat.”

He didn’t fail to hear the amused chuckle of Lady Proudmoore as he crossed over into Boralus.

**Mischief Managed**

Mathias held out a hand as Captain Fairwind fell flat on his face on the deck of the _Redemption_ , Jaina’s portal snapping shut behind them. He had to brace his feet as he and his operative hauled the bulky weight of the Kul Tiran up to standing. Fairwind brushed himself off and rolled his left shoulder, an audible pop sounding from the motion. Shaw let out a sigh and nodded to the elf.

“Good work, Agent. Take the rest of the day and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, thanks for the extra set of hands there… Bananarama?” Flynn winced sheepishly. The demon hunter merely rolled her eyes before turning and stalking down the gangplank towards the market.

“Really?” Mathias chided pointedly.

“Come on, you probably don’t know her name neither,” the captain groused.

“I know the name of _all_ of my operatives.”

“Of course you do,” Fairwind muttered, stepping up to the rail of the ship, bending to lean his arms over the railing. “S'not like I’m hearing a ‘job well done, Flynn’ as if I wasn’t even there watching the skin of your back. Nah, it’s fine.” He made a show of sniffing indignantly. 

Mathias hummed and approached his side, bracing his hands on the wood next to him. A smug grin threatened its way into the corners of his lips. “ _Passable_ , Fairwind.”

“ _Passable_ , ta. I took down one of those stone fuckers by myself, you know.” Flynn snorted as he glanced up at him with a smirk of his own before gazing back towards his own ship berthed in the neighboring slip. “We make a pretty good team, eh Shaw?” he asked wistfully.

“Hardly.”

The captain made a show of feigning admonishment. “Hardly, he says. Just admit that we had fun, mate.”

“If that’s what you need to convince yourself, Fairwind,” Mathias teased, a hint of fondness edging into his voice as the captain turned his attention away from him again to gaze down the line of the harbor again. 

They stood at the rail of the _Wind’s Redemption_ in a comfortable silence. Shaw stole quick glances at the man. If he had to wager a guess, he had to have been at least ten years younger than himself, his face windburned and golden, a days worth of scruff along his jaw. Shandris’ words echoed in his blood as the realization that he really wanted to reach out and touch it shook him in his gut.

_You do realize he only comes aboard to flirt spectacularly with you._

He belatedly realized that it wasn’t just when the captain was pestering him aboard the ship. Fairwind had been flirting with him incessantly throughout the entire mission in the treasury, and what’s more, he had flirted _back_. It was a heady feeling he hadn’t entertained since Edwin, all those years ago. 

And by the _Light_ , it felt _good_.

“Eh, Shaw,” Flynn broached, “what say we pop off to the pub for a bite. I’m fairly ravenous after all that running and trap-disabling and what-not.” 

“Ahoy, Captain!”

Mathias had opened his mouth to respond, but the two of them glanced in the direction of the call, a dark haired girl up in the crow’s nest of the _Middenwake_ , a bright anticipating smile across her face. The spymaster pressed his mouth into a line and nodded.

“Sounds like you already have a prior engagement awaiting you.” He internally kicked himself for the hint of disappointment he heard in his own voice.

“Yeah.” And wasn’t that the luck, the captain held a little bit of that defeat as well. He clapped Mathias on the shoulder. “Rain check, then.” 

The spymaster gave a little jerk of his head towards the gangplank and Fairwind was off. He scrubbed his hand down his face and crossed the deck to his mission table by the mainmast. He set to work, handing out the few requisitions they had lined up for the afternoon before settling against the mast and making small talk with Alleria. Eventually she walked off to fetch them both cups of coffee and he was left to his thoughts.

Without thinking, he crossed an arm over his chest and idly tugged at the hair on his chin, his eyes lifting to the crow’s nest of the other ship, barely making out the glisten of auburn hair in the midday sun.

“Job well done, Flynn,” he muttered softly to no one in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain could not stop breaking every time Flynn tried to guess my demon hunter's name. I'm on the fence if I ever want to reveal it now. And don't ask me which one is my favorite. 
> 
> I found the idea while trolling Pinterest, and DAMN if it didn't make for a delicious prompt, especially on the heels of the last chapter of Harlot. I wish I knew the source, when I pinned it, it was just an image I believe. It just SPOKE of these two idiots SO. MUCH. I'm hoping you dear readers enjoy this new offering. I'm actually really liking the format I'm going with this one.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are, as always, welcomed and Flirt with Master Shaw (and he flirts BACK).


	2. Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When you fall for someone’s beauty._  
> 

**Hard Not To Look At**

Shaw gingerly adjusted the strap on his sea-bag, the muscles in his limbs taut and aching. They had limped back to Kul Tiras, a few lesser in numbers but the mission no less successful. A battle hard fought and won, the war moving closer towards the Alliance's favor.

It had been a rough two months.

He finally let himself exhale as his boot hit the deck of the _Redemption_. It hadn’t quite occurred to him that the familiarity of the ship would provide him respite, but he was thankful nonetheless. He pulled the collar of his woolen coat up over his neck and bowed his head as he tried to duck past Wyrmbane, but he was not so fortunate.

“Shaw,” Halford said, halting him in his tracks. 

“High Commander,” Mathias muttered, giving a curt nod as he tried to take another step. An armored glove stayed his shoulder, causing him to wince.

“You look like hell,” Wyrmbane chided.

“I’m fine,” the spymaster grit, not looking at him. “Just need a fresh uniform and I’ll be back on deck.”

“No, you won’t.” Mathias snapped his eyes at the High Commander with a glower. “Day’s over halfway done, Shaw. There’s not many missions to set forth, not with everyone limping back home and licking their wounds.” The paladin pat his shoulder before taking a step back. “Take the day and see to yourself. You smell like the left side of a boar’s ass.” 

Mathias gave an indignant grunt, but obeyed considering he didn’t have much of a choice really, crossing below deck to his estate room to fetch a clean set of civvies. He exchanged his dirty and battered effects from his pack, stuffing the soiled clothing into a threadbare linen sack. The bells in the distance chimed the second hour of the afternoon, and he sighed to himself. It seemed a waste to the remainder of the day, but the High Commander was right. He and his laundry smelled something abysmal. Shouldering both bags with a protest from his shoulder and a grunt from his lips, he headed out onto the promenade.

It didn’t take long to reach Mariner’s Row, entering the establishment discreetly marked _LtS_ on the overhang. He had been skeptical the first time that the bath house had been recommended to him, knowing that in his experience such businesses were more often of the dubious sort. The caretaker Elsa had seen to it that she kept a clean reputation, however, and it had proven a refreshing change from the small washbasin in his cabin upon the _Redemption_.

Shaw rang the small bell on the front counter, keeping his eyes sharp as he waited for the caretaker to appear. He drummed his fingers against the wood in a fit of impatience, itching to get this ‘see to yourself’ business over with. He shuddered to think of how much paperwork was piled on his desk in his cabin.

“Master Shaw,” Elsa greeted brightly as she appeared from behind a thick, woolen curtain. “You haven’t darkened my door in a minute,” she admonished, approaching the counter and pulling a ledger from underneath. “The usual?” She quirked an eyebrow as she perused the pages, grabbing a self-inking quill from a cup next to his arm.

“Please,” he replied, “and laundry service if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course, love.” She took the linen sack from him and deposited it behind the counter. “Change room’s open. You’re the only one in today.” She made a note in the ledger, tapping on the book thoughtfully for a moment. “Oh, I’m afraid we discontinued some of the products you used last. You wouldn’t mind trying out something else, would you?”

Mathias shook his head. “As long as it gets me clean, I’m not too particular.”

Elsa flicked the pages and ran her fingers down a list, taking an assessing glance at the spymaster before returning to the page she was scrawling on previously. “I think I have just the thing.” She threw a quick nod towards the curtain. “Go on back and stash your pack. There’s fresh towels, so feel free. I’ll have your chamber ready and the laundry started by the time you’ve undressed, love.”

He took his time in the shower, prepared scalding hot as he liked it. He scrubbed every crevice free of the gunge and gunk collected as a reminder of being in the middle of a war front. His brow had furrowed a bit at the unfamiliar jar of soap paste on the shelf, and he had nearly dropped the damned thing as he read the label: _Soap Paste — Golden Apple, Sungrass, Alabaster Clay_. The scent was something he was all too accustomed to, bringing forth long buried memories he’d rather keep from his mind, but it wasn’t all that unpleasant. 

He startled slightly when Elsa poked her head into the room from the curtain. He shouldn’t have been surprised, she’d done it on previous occasions with an “oh love, I run a bathhouse; you think I’ve not seen what you’ve got before?”

“The laundry’s taking me a bit. Why don’t you soak those tight muscles in the mineral pool while I finish up. Free of charge, love,” she offered.

“I appreciate it,” he replied with a nod, wrapping the warm towel he had squirreled from the locker room around his waist.

The mineral pool lay just across the hall. The tiled chamber held a healthy fog of steam above the clear water, the aroma of salt and silt perfuming the space. He hung the towel on a hook near the door and slipped into the pool, lowering himself to the shoulders for a moment with a groan.

She wasn’t wrong. Every muscle lining his frame cried out in delight as the tension loosened and he found himself more relaxed than he had in a decade. He glided over to the edge of the bath and sat himself on the ledge, allowing the water to collect around his shoulders, leaning his head back on the lip. He closed his eyes and let his other senses keep alert instead. A deep sigh escaped him as everything wound to a stop around him.

“Shaw!”

Mathias’ head shot up and his eyes snapped open, taking in the figure standing at the edge of the pool before him. His surprised gaze roamed up naked, tanned skin pelted in downy, auburn hair, lingering perhaps a half-second too long on a thick, flaccid cock resting against a pleasantly heavy scrotum before raising his eyes up to the man’s grinning face.

Fairwind. _Shit._

To be honest, he had all but forgotten the captain during the time he was away in Zandalar. That was the price of his duty, the mission always came first. His breath hitched and he felt his frame lock up tighter than before he had walked into the bath house.

“Been a dog’s age since I’ve seen you around, mate,” the captain admonished, pulling his towel from his shoulder and hanging it next to Shaw’s. “Where the blazes have you been hiding?”

The spymaster felt the corners of his mouth turn down and his brow furrow as he glanced away. “You realize that there’s a war on, yes?” he replied evenly. “I was off fighting it.” Heat began to rise to his cheeks. It was just the warmth of the steam, he told himself.

“Oh,” Fairwind drawled, “that explains it. How’d it go, by the by?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Mathias sniped, shooting him a glower.

“True, true.” The captain’s lips drew up into a smirk. “That seat taken?” he asked with a flick of his head gesturing to the empty space next to him. Shaw’s eyes went wide. He looked briefly between the man and the expanse of stone tile next to him before shaking his head. 

Fairwind quickly hopped into the pool with a “Ta” and crossed the water to settle next to him, leaving only a narrow gap between them. “Nothing better than a nice hot soak to just… wash all your worries away, hm?” 

Mathias felt his back stiffen as he realized it wouldn’t take much of a shift for him to touch the pirate and the notion caused gooseflesh to bloom across his skin under the hot water. He found that his body had begun responding in a way it hadn’t in nearly two decades. It didn’t help matters when a warm hand settled gently on his shoulder either.

“You alright there, mate?”

“I’m fine,” Shaw lied.

“Really,” Fairwind mused, giving the muscle under his touch a slight squeeze. “You’re sitting in a mineral well and you’re still wound tighter than a bowstring.”

Mathias shrugged him off and nodded quickly. “I’m fine,” he repeated, his breath quickening.

“If that’s what it takes for you to convince yourself, mate,” the captain purred. That certainly caught Shaw’s attention and he turned his head to him again, finding Fairwind’s eyes dancing with mirth. “Hey, after this, what do you say we cash in on that rain check, hm?”

Mathias blinked owlishly at him for a few seconds, his brain fighting to catch up. “Rain check?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” Fairwind hummed. “Pub, remember? Let’s grab a bite and you can tell me all about your noble battle that’s kept you away for several months.” 

Shaw bit his upper lip and studied the anticipation on the captain’s face before letting out a soft sigh. “I shouldn’t,” he replied with a shake of his head, tearing his eyes away. “I have a mountain of paperwork that’s been accumulating in my absence that I need to attend to.” There was a little voice in the back of his mind that sounded frighteningly like Pathonia scolding him that he shouldn’t for the sake of putting personal desires before the Kingdom.

“Oh. Right.” And there it was, that little hint of disappointment that he had heard two months ago on the deck of the _Redemption_. It might as well have been a lifetime ago. “Some other time, then.”

“Some other time,” Mathias muttered absently. He blew out a breath he had been holding for way too long and slipped off the seat. “I have to go. My laundry’s probably ready.”

He skimmed across the bath, keeping his back to the captain as he lifted himself deftly from the edge, padding to grab his towel to wrap around his waist, hiding his insistent erection, pausing once more at the lilt of Fairwind’s voice.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he lied again as he ducked past the curtain. At least, that’s what he told himself.

@}—>—

Mathias had made it back to the ship in half the time, muttering to himself the entire way. He had run through a full list of why he should just write it off, it was nothing, his imagination was running away from him. The mission, no the _Kingdom_ , comes first and foremost. By the time he had reached his cabin and put away his fresh laundry, his decision had been made to stop the infection in its tracks before it spread and got worse.

_If that’s what it takes for you to convince yourself, mate._

He paced the estate room in a huff, chewing on a thumbnail, something he hadn’t done in _years_. The paperwork really wasn’t the gnoll-hill he had made it out to be, a handful of requisitions and maybe three completed missive reports from Shiv. It left plenty of time to sit and stew over his encounter with Fairwind as the daylight dimmed into nightfall beyond the porthole window. He stopped and gazed out, annoyed that his cabin faced the _Middenwake_ berthed in the neighboring slip. Candlelight spilled from the windows of the captain’s cabin and he watched a bulky shadow shift back and forth in a mimic to his own movements. Shaking his head he turned away and blew out the candle on his desk, dropping onto his bunk and throwing an arm behind his head.

And if he took himself in hand that night with thoughts of an auburn boar’s tail and an enticing package nestled against golden skin... well that was neither here nor there, wasn’t it?

**The Price of Peace**

Mathias leaned against the trunk of an old tree outside of the embassy. The breeze blew warm against his hair and it tugged at his heart. It was good to be back in Stormwind. Kul Tiras certainly had its… _charms_ , but the glistening stone walls would always be home.

_Alabaster stone._

His thoughts meandered to Edwin, as they were oft to do as of late. If he could see the city now, the lengths Baros had taken in the second rebuild, how the workers had been rewarded. What a world he lived in now, the what ifs and the could have beens, ideas he hadn’t let himself entertain until a bumbling ship’s captain had steamrolled over his neat and organized existence. He unfolded one of his arms to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Shaw?”

Mathias looked up and let out a sharp breath. “Ms Sanguinar,” he greeted evenly. He stole a glance past her to the doorway of the building. “They’re still at it, then.” It wasn’t a question.

The elf nodded and crossed to stand beside him. “Greymane’s weary and the High Priestess downright refuses to have anything to do with the treaty.” She pursed her lips and clicked her tongue. “This ridiculous war may be over, but it seems that few are in the mood for celebration. Anduin least of all.”

Mathias hummed. “A great weight rests upon his shoulders. I fear his burdens won’t get lighter anytime soon.”

Valeera shook her head in agreement, letting a pregnant pause settle between them. “Tell me, did you ever take that vacation we discussed back then?”

He let a small, mirthless chuckle. “And let some conspiracy come to fruition? No. You, of all people, know that I just can't let myself rest. Although…” he trailed. 

“Although?”

“While my mind is loath to idle, my body keeps telling me—“

“To slow down?”

Shaw raised an eyebrow curiously. “What, are you concerned? As a person?”

Valeera slid her eyes slyly towards him. “Not if you were the last snowball in hell,” she muttered.

Mathias couldn’t contain the small smile at that, emitting a soft sigh. “That being said, perhaps I _should_ find a bit of time for myself.” A vision of golden skin and long, auburn hair, the sounds of a bright, lilting tenor entered his thoughts.

“ _Just_ yourself?” Her tone was light, giving him the slightest of teasing nudges with her elbow. Mathias rolled his eyes.

“There is _someone_ I would like to get to know better.” He glanced down to find a smirk matching his own. “But such things are best taken slowly. Carefully.”

“Just remember, happiness is a fleeting thing, Shaw. Find yours while you can.”

Shaw nodded absently. “Perhaps I will, Valeera,” he murmured. “Perhaps I will.” He chewed thoughtfully on his upper lip, staring at a point on the ground in front of them. “If you would excuse me,” he said, barely touching her arm. “I have an appointment I should keep.” He kicked away from the tree and took the path back up to the Dwarven District, turning towards the heart of the city. 

He suddenly felt the need to visit a grave.

**What Tomorrow Brings**

“You sent for me, Sire?” Mathias cautiously entered Anduin’s study, finding the young king standing at his desk perusing several parchments.

“Yes, thank you for coming on such short notice.” The king exchanged the documents from his hand with another set from the table, stepping to his spymaster with them held out. “Recent reports.”

Mathias took the parchments and scanned over the top page quickly. Dark ranger whispers and sightings, movements towards Zandalar. Windrunner still playing shadow games.

Fantastic.

He flipped the parchment to the next, a requisition for him to portal back to Kul Tiras. His brow knitted in confusion, glancing back up to Anduin. “Boralus? Again?”

The King nodded. “Temporarily, at least. There’s a ship there to take you Zandalar to gather what intelligence that you can. I need an extra pair of eyes out there and I can’t afford to spread Lady Alleria and Lord Turalyon that thin.”

Mathias’ eyes roamed over the missive, landing on the confounded name of the ship’s captain hired for the job. His eyes snapped shut and he fought a growl in the back of his throat, trying like hell to not bely any emotion in front of His Majesty.

Fucking _Fairwind_. Light be _damned_.

It was a bad idea. It was a _terrible_ idea. His mouth set into a terse line as he ran through all of the millions of ways the assignment could be compromised just by seeing that single infuriating name upon the page. Top of the list: he’d be driven to an unnecessary distraction the likes he’d never seen. Surely there _had_ to be another ship that could take him to Zandalar. The _Melody_ for example, or one crewed out of Stormwind Harbor.

He’d made that trip once before, to fight a legion of Zandalari in the name of the Kingdom. It had taken two bloody months including sailing there and back again. Now he was being served papers instructing him to make the journey again, stuck in close quarters with a man that he found fascinating and maddening and who had haunted his singular nightly pleasures more than he'd be loath to admit. 

But, no. He couldn’t just request for another ship or another captain of the King. Fairwind's ship could make the voyage discreetly, whereas any other Alliance commissioned vessel would be too recognizable. Whatever reason or excuse he could come up with would just sound trite. He’d have to bite his tongue and take his assignment as he had hundreds, thousands of times before. He’d have to remain professional, get the job done. 

Otherwise, what else was there?

“Shaw?”

Mathias snapped his gaze back to the King, a pensive look of concern passing across the young man’s face. He huffed out a soft snort, failing to hide the hint of indignation behind it. 

“It’s fine, Your Majesty,” he muttered, lifting a hand to rub his forehead. “The crew has been vetted, I take it.”

“Yes, and they are ready on your command to set sail at the earliest. The sooner the better, I’m afraid.”

Shaw gave a curt nod, folding the documents swiftly and tucking them into his left pauldron pouch. “I’ll be on my way. Will that be all, Sire?”

“No,” Anduin returned the gesture. “Thank you for your urgency in the matter, Shaw. I would bring this to no one else.”

“And I am humbled.”

“Fair winds upon your journey, Mathias,” Anduin offered cordially.

Mathias nodded and turned to excuse himself to set his preparations. He wanted to ensure that he would be through the portal at first light upon the morrow.

 _Fair winds._ Oh, if _only_ the King knew.

**And Then, There Were Two**

Mathias entered the SI:7 compound just before the eighth bell, cursing himself. He had told Flynn that he would meet him at the fourth, then made sure that Shiv would relay the message that he was going to be late. While any other time, it would be the nature of his job and the captain was well aware of what he was signing up for with him, it still stung. He had hoped to have made it back over an hour ago, but the harvest stalls in the seventh level marketplace had been crowded.

He strode into the main building at a brisk pace despite the weight of his traveler’s satchel, taking the steps up to the administrative offices two at a time. He stopped at the entrance of Renzik’s with a quick knock, holding a small wrapped punnet in his hand. 

“He’s in your office, Boss. I tried to tell him you’d be late, but he refused to leave.”

“It’s alright,” the spymaster replied. “Go on and finish what you’re working on, then lock up.” He handed the parcel over, noting the raise in the goblin’s brow. “Have a good night, Shiv, and give Theresa my apologies for keeping you.”

Renzik peeked past the wrapping and a broad grin spread across his face. “Mountain berries?” 

Shaw gave a one-armed shrug, moving on to his own office. He took a deep breath, placing his hand on the knob and entering, his mouth forming into a gloriously annoyed frown at the sight.

“Boots off my desk,” he growled without any real menace. Flynn shot him a lecherous smirk and did as he asked, but did not vacate the old Fennington chair behind his mahogany estate desk. Mathias rolled his eyes as he crossed the room, pulling out his kit to retrieve a set of picks.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Flynn asked with feigned indignance. Shaw didn’t fail to notice that he was wholly teasing. “I’m about to starve to death.”

“I had errands to run,” he retorted, nudging the chair over with his hip so he could bend to pick the lock on his top drawer. He inserted the slimmest torsion wrench from his kit and set to work.

“Is there a reason you’re picking the lock to your own desk?”

“Pathonia didn’t leave me a key,” Mathias answered pragmatically. “On _purpose_ ,” he added, further making his point. The lock gave under his fingers and he opened the drawer, rifling through its contents before coming up with a small bronze key, adorned with a thick thread of red string, which he handed to Flynn. “Here, hold onto this for me,” he muttered, closing the drawer and using the picks to lock it again. 

“Wait, lemme get this straight,” Flynn began with a curious raise of a brow. “You keep a key inside a locked drawer that you don’t have a key to.”

Mathias stood to his full height and pulled the documents and files from his inbox to place into his satchel. “That key isn’t for the drawer,” he muttered. “Let’s go,” he commanded softly.

“Then what’s it go to?” Flynn followed him out, pausing to let Mathias pull out a set of keys to lock his office. The spymaster ignored him when he tried to pass the loose key back to him. 

Mathias jogged down the steps knowing the captain would be on his heels as they stepped out of the building into the evening dusk. Outside of the compound, when he made to cross the cobbled street instead of turning towards the Pig and Whistle, Flynn grabbed him by the elbow.

“Dinner’s this way, mate.” The captain hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the inn, his brow knitted in confusion.

“There’s something I need to show you,” he replied, loosening Fairwind’s grip on his arm and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Mathias led him into a small alcove at the heart of Old Town to a darkened door that was hardly noticeable at this time of day. They slipped into the parcel, the spymaster not stopping until he came upon the door marked number seven with keys still in hand. 

“Wait, is this your flat?” Flynn asked as he swung the door open, stepping aside to let his companion enter first.

“Yes, it is.” Shaw let the captain take it all in, his eyes roaming over the door in an acute scrutiny.

“There’s no bell.”

“I don’t get many visitors.”

“And you know your door’s hinged backwards, yeah?”

Mathias sighed impatiently. “Yes, I’m aware,” he replied, gesturing the man inside. “Quicker to get out in an emergency, harder for someone to come in unannounced.”

Flynn crossed the threshold, barely stepping into the space. Shaw stepped around him, pulling the strap of his satchel over his head and placing it onto the table near the hearth. He glanced back as he pulled a small package from his pack, finding the captain staring at him with confusion upon his brow. 

“You brought me to your flat,” he remarked wistfully.

“I did,” Mathias said absently, checking the chill larder. “Damn, I’m going to have to go back out it seems. Do you think you can get your things from the inn and get settled in while I fetch dinner?”

“Wait _waitwaitwaitwait_ ,” Flynn waved his hands. “Are you asking me to _live_ here with you?”

The spymaster turned and blinked at him. “I gave you the key,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The captain dug into his pants pocket and pulled the key that was handed to him earlier and turned it over in his hands.

“Really?”

Mathias rubbed his forehead and let out a sigh in exasperation. “We leave in less than a fortnight and will be gone for several months. What sense does it make to have you keep a room at the inn?”

“You… want me to live with you.”

Mathias nodded. “Yeah. _Yes_ , I want you to live here. With _me_ ,” he stammered, watching as the other man’s face broke into his biggest grin yet. He shook his head with a small laugh, and tossed the small gift at his companion, the pirate catching it deftly. “And that’s for you, to add to your collection. Bathroom’s around the corner and bedroom’s upstairs. I’ll be back in a bell.”

“I’ll be here,” Flynn quipped, quickly grabbing the spymaster’s arm as he attempted to pass, pulling him into a fleeting kiss. “You trust me, yeah?”

Mathias closed his eyes, relishing in hearing Flynn say that phrase back to him, underlined with something he was still too scared to define. It had been so long since someone had said such a three-word phrase to him, and his heart ached with the memory. 

“I trust you,” Mathias breathed. He disentangled himself away from the captain and ducked out the door.

@}—>—

True to his word, it took just under a bell to make his way down to Little Pandaria and back, his arms laden with parcels filled with pan-fried noodles coated in sticky brown sauce, steamed fish and vegetables, and a bottle of fizzed rice wine. The flat was lit with candlelight, a fire burning warm in the hearth when he returned and the merry sounds of a jovial sea-shanty echoed from the bathroom. He moved the satchel to the chair near the sink, placing the take-away on the table to collect place settings from his cabinets.

“Your shower is fucking _paradise_ , mate,” Flynn moaned as he appeared from behind the pocket door, steam spilling behind him to perfume his living space with a waft of sea salt and deadnettle soap. Mathias glanced up, finding the captain bare-chested and running a brush through his hair that was promptly tossed into his old, beaten armchair. A pair of sage-green cotton pants hung lazily at his hips and the spymaster had to tear his eyes away from the trail of darkening hair leading to… 

Mathias cleared his throat. “Thought we could try something other than the Oink and Squeak,” he remarked hoarsely gesturing to the small feast before them, pouring out cups of wine for them both.

They made small talk as they ate their fill, the pirate gushing over the unfamiliar cuisine. When their bites dwindled and the last cups of wine were poured, Flynn lifted from his chair and cleared the plates to the sink, filling the basin to wash up, much to Shaw’s chagrin. 

“I saw you slip those files into your sack, mate. If I set to dish duty, you can get done whatever it is you need to get done while I work. Two birds and all that.” Damn his annoying logic.

With his nose in his papers, he found it oddly surreal and calm to listen to the sounds of another person occupying his space. The splash of the water, the swipe of a towel, the disturbance of drawers and cabinets as plates and forks found their homes. He never realized just how much he had craved that. 

“I’m going up,” Flynn announced, drying his hands on the towel before draping it on the edge of the sink. “You going to be long?”

Mathias drew his attention from the cipher he was skimming over, finding the captain scratching at his side and looking at him expectantly. The candlelight danced across the golden skin and he was finally able to savor the full sight before him. Flynn’s arms were covered in strong muscle, the right laced in blue-black ink depicting stars and ships. A pair of swallows danced across his broad chest just under the light dusting of auburn chest hair. His belly was almost flat but not defined, his navel puckering into a tight coil above the darkened trail leading below his waistband. He took in a sharp breath and licked his lips.

“Mate?”

Mathias blinked owlishly with a shake of his head. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Yes, I can be finished for the night.” He organized his work into a neat pile, lifting from his chair.

Flynn chuckled lightly while Mathias pulled the other two books he had purchased from _Fell’s Tomes and Antiquities_ earlier that day and tucked them under his arm before blowing out the candlelight. “Mathias, you don’t have to apologize for appreciating the view,” he chided gently, kicking off from the sink to lead the spymaster up the spiral staircase.

They entered the pitch black bedroom, Mathias using a lighter on his dresser to ignite the lamp and pitching the flame low, just enough to assess the state of the chamber. He had expected for some reason for the captain’s effects to be tossed about, but found that the room was still in its usual order. He went to his bookcase and placed the volumes in their home next to their brothers in the series. He raised an eyebrow at the shelf below, now housing a row of _Steamy Romance_ novels that were definitely _not_ there before, the newest of which sat at the end of the line.

“It looked so tidy in here, couldn’t bear to just dump my sea-bag,” Flynn explained as he slipped under the covers. “I take it you want the outside, yeah?”

“Yes, in case there’s an emergency,” Mathias murmured, noting the sleep pants were now draped across a chair in the corner. After finishing with the bookshelf, he moved back to his dresser, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of his own, running his thumb thoughtfully over the threadbare cotton, his breathing becoming shallow. 

“You’re thinking too much, mate,” Flynn muttered from the bed. Mathias slid his glance over to him, rolled on his side, his hair loose and fanned behind him. “Just leave them and come to bed.”

Mathias looked back at the pants in his hands once more. He clicked his jaw, placed them back in their drawer and turned the dial on the lamp to snuff out the light. In the darkness, he stripped down to his smallclothes, his hands stilling on the edge of the fabric with the meandering thought that he hadn’t slept nude in a decade, and hadn’t had a bed partner in nearly fifteen. 

“ _Mathias_ ,” said Flynn, deep and sensual. His brow knit as he bit his lip. The man rarely used his given name. “M’not gonna bite, you know.”

 _But, what if I want you to? That’s the problem, isn't it?_ he thought to himself. He slid off the breeches and edged himself to the bed, stopping to crack the window to let the moonlight and the cool, night air in, just a bit. He slipped in beside the captain but tried like hell to keep himself in a tight distance.

Which lasted all of seventeen seconds, or at least by Mathias’ count, when he found himself jostled and tangled with roughly fifteen stone of Kul Tiran pride. His body froze, gone practically rigid when a hard muscled leg settled between his own, his eyes squeezing tight shut. He felt a nuzzle at his temple and couldn’t stop himself from leaning towards it just the slightest bit.

“You’re still thinking,” Flynn mumbled against his ear.

Mathias didn’t even realize that he had been holding his breath until he blew it out. “I’m sorry, Flynn. I’m afraid I’m not the most… _desirable_ of partners you could be bedded with.”

“Not desirable,” the captain scoffed. “ _Not desirable_ , he says.” Mathias felt a strong hand on his neck, thumb on his jaw to coax him into coming nose to nose with him in the soft light of the mother moon. He lifted a hand to rest against Flynn’s wrist tentatively.

“Look, mate. I wanted to see you smile when I caught you frowning at me from across the promenade when you lot pulled into port, two years ago. I wanted to keep you talking all day long when I handed you my first expedition report. I wanted to kiss you senseless when we returned from the treasury run.” He paused and Mathias could feel the tremble in his breath against his lips. “And I’ve wanted you underneath me, just to find out what your freckles taste like ever since I stumbled upon you and your rousing dick in that bath house.” 

Mathias shuddered at his low voice, opening his eyes to find no judgement, just an openness that tugged somewhere at his core. “I’ve asked you for time and patience. I don’t think it’s about the time, not anymore. It’s the patience I still need.”

“Whatever you need,” Flynn reassured, his thumb passing across his jaw to rest against his bottom lip. “But don’t you _ever_ try to convince me again that you’re not something to be desired.”

Mathias nodded, his cheeks warming with heat. He turned his head, kissing Flynn’s palm. “You can touch me tonight,” he whispered. He felt the sharp intake of breath next to him, knowing that he’d just made the pirate’s night.

“You mean that?”

“I trust you.”

He heard Flynn swallow hard. “Only as much as you think you can do. I won’t push you. You get overwhelmed, you tell me, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Mathias didn’t really know what he had expected. It was awkward, it was uncoordinated, and at one point Flynn painfully yelped when his bony knee caught the pirate’s testicles in an unfortunate position. But, after a few fumbles and clumsy bouts of laughter, Flynn managed to take them both in hand with the help of a bit of slick from the pot in his bedside drawer. 

It was the most unreasonably perfect thing he had felt in a very long time.

And when he heard the rumbling groan of his lover as he licked the spend from Flynn’s belly, he couldn’t help but smile smugly against his skin. Another on the long list of forgotten somethings that had started to creep into his thoughts more and more.

“Fuck the Tidemother, mate,” Flynn exhaled. “You’re bloody beautiful like this, all soppy and whatnot. I think I’m getting hard again.”

Mathias flopped down on his back, trying to catch his breath. “Not tonight, scoundrel. I’m a tad too old and tired for another round.”

“You’re not old. Now _Greymane_. That’s old.”

“And grizzled.”

“Probably has fleas.”

Mathias let out a chuckle, genuine and full of mirth, feeling his lover grazing his teeth in a nip at his shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For trusting me.”

“Of course I do,” Flynn replied softly, tugging him closer in a tangled embrace. Mathias could dislodge him if he needed to if he were called to duty. But, as sleep threatened to pull him under its sway, he found that he really didn’t want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and throwing kudos at this little bit of floofy intermission before the next shitshow starts. I've got one more chapter left to go. There were a few new names on the list, and I have to admit one of them set me to squeal. So appreciated.
> 
> More in game dialogue paraphrased here. Also, there are some deliberate time-skips, but that's mainly because I've either already covered the material or I'm keeping some source material in tact. I tried to squeeze in another scene from the _Arva_ from SR, but couldn't come up with anything. UGH. Oh, and if you want to know the continuation of the second sub-section, These Small Hours, chapter 3. ^.~
> 
> Comments and Kudos are, as always, appreciated and welcome and won't bite, unless a spymaster wants them to.


	3. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When you fall for someone’s soul._  
> 

**A Moment in Patience**

_Years ago, a group called the Syndicate wandered this part of the Highlands, comprised of noblemen and their vassals—_

“Are you just about finished, mate?”

Mathias felt the warm hand on his shoulder and he nudged the arm attached quickly with a turn of his head. He rubbed his palm down his face with a sigh, not letting go of his glass quill.

“I still need to finish up this report while it’s fresh on my mind,” he lamented, attempting to draw his attention back to his work as the captain began to rub distracting circles into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He closed his eyes with a quiet growl in the back of his throat when he felt Flynn lean in and nuzzle his temple.

“Come to bed so I can suck your cock,” he felt him whisper against his ear, a hot breath that sent a shock to his groin. “Leave this for the morrow before we depart.”

He rolled the thought in his mind for a moment. While he had given a little more effort, the pair had scarce touched since the night he had handed Flynn a _deplorably_ filthy book that he could hardly call literature. Encounters had resorted to nothing more than heated kisses and the exceptionally rare fumble. The night before they had departed on their journey of the continent, he had allowed the man to drink his fill. He should have known Flynn would get a lingering hunger for more.

Mathias took a deep breath and stole his glance away at the bed. There was plenty of room for the both of them and then some; Jorach had always been a gracious host to the few guests to darken his door. His eyes roamed down, finding the bedrolls used for camping out tucked neatly next to their packs and exhaled, resigned to his fate.

“Not tonight,” he murmured reluctantly. He shrugged from Flynn’s touch gently, not too mean. He looked up at him, guilt pulling at his brow. “I’ll lose the details if I leave the report for the morning.”

The captain huffed in defeat and pursed his lips. “Alright, alright,” he conceded. “I’m taking the floor, no complaints.” His mouth quirked into a sly grin. “ _But_ , I’m asking for a minute of your time in Quel’Thalas.”

Mathias raised an eyebrow. “What’s in Quel’Thalas?” Aside from the usual uptight aristocracy, the remnants of fel residue and a giant scourge burn through the center of the city. Oh, and the fact that it was a highly regarded Horde capital buried deep within enemy territory.

“Think of all we could get up to in one of those fancy, gilded estate rooms with their golden bedposts and manasilk sheets!” Flynn crowed, his eyes dancing wickedly. “I’m getting hard just thinking of it, mate.”

“Insatiable, that’s what you are,” Mathias muttered with a shake of his head. “Let me finish my work.” He felt a press of lips at his temple, right where the captain was fond of pressing his nose at any given moment, and then the presence had slipped away. “Where are you off to?”

“You know, healthy burgeoning libido, me. Someone has to tend to it.” Flynn laughed at the scowl that settled on the spymaster’s face. “Me, I’m going to tend to it. Thinking of you and your soppy cum face.”

Mathias rolled his eyes as the pirate slipped out the door, the weight in his gut filling with deep pangs of guilt.

@—>—

They reached Quel’Thalas in due time according to the itinerary Mathias had set them on. He had flashed the guard at the flight master’s roost their decree of safe passage, sealed and signed by the High Chieftain Baine Bloodhoof. At the initial protest of a gryphon entering their lands, the pair were then met with gracious bows and apologies. While Flynn easily wore his awe upon his raised brow, Shaw was not surprised in the least. This wasn’t his first trip around the continent, and the Regent Lord always went to great lengths of theatrics to impress his foreign visitors.

Proud bastards.

Mathias felt a wash of relief when they came upon their guide inside the Shepherd's Gate, finding Halduron Brightwing awaiting their arrival. In his brief interactions with the Ranger-General, he found him to not possess nearly as much of the pompous arrogance of his kin. It was there, mind, but a wholly different attitude altogether, one that was hard earned in his service to his countrymen. They conversed agreeably as he took the pair on a brief tour of the city before leaving them at the Sunfury Spire to be received by the Regent Lord and his consort, First Arcanist Thalyssra.

“Forgive me, Lor’Themar did not tell me beforehand that we would be entertaining the company of such _handsome_ men as yourselves,” the sorceress quipped as she extended a small nod of her head towards the traveling companions. “Should you be worried?” she teased the Regent Lord.

“We are thankful for your hospitality and cooperation in the matter of this assignment, Regent Lord,” Mathias said humbly, giving an official bow. He glanced over at the captain, nudging him slightly with his elbow.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Flynn blurted. “Dusk Lily.”

Mathias’ eyes widened in shock at his companion. By the _Light_ , those words didn’t just tumble from his mouth. He turned his attention back to the elven leader cautiously.

“I _beg_ your pardon?” Lor’Themar asked with a raised eyebrow, his face lit with suspicion.

The spymaster snapped his head back at Flynn as quick as he could without breaking his neck. “ _Shut. Your. Mouth,_ ” he hissed at him, hoping that Flynn hadn’t just blown the cover of one of his most trusted informants. The pirate blinked owlishly at him for several seconds as the pair of elves stole glances at each other.

“Oh. Yes. Right, of course,” Flynn stammered, picking up his jaw from the floor, finally remembering himself. “My sincerest apologies, Lord and Lady. I’m afraid I’m not at all up to snuff with all the fancy rules of etiquette and the like as my partner here is. Name’s Captain Fairwind. It’s an _absolute_ pleasure.” He made a show of extending a hand to the First Arcanist and bowing low as he kissed the back of hers.

Mathias exhaled a sigh of relief, but not without rolling his eyes as he did so.

With the crisis averted and a brief chat regarding the spymaster’s tasks while within the city walls, dinner was announced in the drawing room of the Spire. The spymaster was pleased to note that the meal was not of the typical conjured sort that he had partaken on previous trips. In its stead was a lovely banquet of Lynx Chateaubriand served with Arcwine demi-glacé, a light salad of crisp greens draped in creamy vinaigrette, and an amber potato purée laden with sweet cream butter and whipped into submission. It took magnitudes of resolve for him to not yield under the decadence of the meal like a heathen after weeks of rations and greasy pub fare. He was wholly thankful that Flynn displayed the same decorum.

What turned out to be a pleasant surprise was the Arcwine pairing chosen for the meal, one of Thalyssra’s small batch vintages. She remarked conversationally that Theron had the Grand Magister commission one of his prized apprentices to work a time anomaly spell to quick-age the wine in rum barrels procured from Booty Bay while the Regent Lord looked on fondly. It wasn’t lost on Shaw the affection the two held for each other. There was a gentleness to the way he conversed with his consort that shone from behind his calm steady demeanor, although he knew better than to file that as an underestimation. He supposed he was seeing a similar familiarity that he had found with Flynn. After dessert had been served, an airy concoction of cream and honey, Mathias mentioned that they would need to retire soon to check into the inn in the Bazaar.

“I know that you are accustomed to patroning our fine establishments, Spymaster. However, at the behest of my companion, we’ve actually drawn up one of our finest guest suites here at the palace for the two of you for the duration of your stay.”

“That really isn’t necess—“

“But we _insist_ ,” Thalyssra interrupted. “We’ve made all the necessary preparations and your things have already been taken to your room. As a show of good faith in upholding the armistice, of course.”

“Yeah, mate. For the good of peace and mankind and all that,” Flynn added. Mathias flicked a glance at the captain, setting his mouth into a firm line at the pout and smoulder the captain was laying on him.

“Very well,” he conceded. "We will humbly accept."

He was starting to loathe how he couldn’t say no to that face.

@}—>—

“This is…” Mathias muttered, taking in the room they had been escorted to. “This is a bit much.”

“No, mate, this,” Flynn smirked, “ _this_ is perfect,” taking it all in with awe.

Mathias flicked a glance over at his companion and then back at the room laid before him, clicking his jaw. If he were to assess the space, his —no _their_ — flat could easily fill the room at least six times. Light be damned, was this really a _guest_ chamber?

Flynn stepped past him, easing out of his greatcoat to drape across the chaise lounge, continuing to strip on his way to an open doorway lit up like an Elder's Moonstone. “Tidemother fuck me and make me forget my own name, you should _see_ this bath, mate. It would put Elsa out of business, I tell you!”

Mathias sighed and cracked his neck, moving to his pack to pull out his field journal and his quill kit, settling at the estate desk on the far end of the room to work through his notes. He flipped to an empty page, prepared only with _SMC_ in the corner, and set to work jotting down a quick unciphered shorthand to be sifted through later.

“Care to join me?” Flynn purred from the doorway of the bath, a slow steam beginning to pour from the entry.

“Go on, I’ll go after,” he deflected, continuing to write in his elegantly neat hand.

“Don’t forget our deal. The Highlands, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Mathias replied, not looking up from his work. “Clean up. You smell.”

“So do you,” Flynn snorted, “but you’re not hearing me whinge about it.”

Surprisingly, the captain was out of the bath in record time, thirteen minutes and forty seven seconds by Mathias’ count. They exchanged places and he ducked into the lav, noting that Flynn wasn’t wrong in his assessment; the amenities would put the little bathhouse on Mariner’s Row to shame.

He didn’t even have a warning as he exited the bath with a towel against his head, when Flynn was on him, falling to his knees to take his full length into his mouth and pressing his nose against his thatch of ginger hair. The towel in his hand dropped to the floor as he braced his hands against the gilded door jamb to keep his knees from buckling.

“I thought you wanted to test out the bed?” he sighed against the buck of his lover’s head on his hardening cock.

Flynn pulled back with an obscene pop. “Couldn’t wait,” he growled before taking him into that velvet heat again.

@}—>—

Mathias’s eyes opened lazily as he lay prone at the center of the largest bed he’d ever been in, tangled with fifteen stone of snoring Kul Tiran blowing hot puffs against his neck. He slid his glance over to his pack, thinking about the little pot of slick hidden under a false bottom and away from his partner. His mind whirled around the thought of possibly fetching it, they’d made such progress. Even after Flynn had finally relinquished his hold to let them fall into the luxury of mussed manasilk sheets, he succumbed enough to reciprocate, bringing his lover to release with tongue and teeth and hands _ _._  
_

“I can hear you, you know,” Flynn mumbled just under his ear, punctuating with a small nip to his lobe.

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Mathias mumbled back.

“You didn’t have to.” The captain wriggled, a small stretch of his back as he made himself more comfortable nestled against him. “S’all that thinkin’ going on in your head. It rattles.”

“I’m not thinking,” Mathias lied, tilting his head against the captain’s.

“Sure you are,” Flynn chided. “Just stop and enjoy this ridiculously fantastic bed with me. Think all you want in the morning while you’re running around taking your inventory.”

Mathias sighed, giving a little squirm of his own, shooting one more fleeting glance at his pack across the room. _Westfall_ , he finally promised himself.

_Just have to get through Westfall._

“You trust me, yeah?” he felt Flynn whisper against his skin.

“I trust you.”

**Moonbrook**

“What’s this then?” Flynn asked shakily, his forehead pressed against the spymaster’s.

Mathias’ eyes roamed his lover’s face in the shadow of the White Lady’s moonlight. “Surrender.”

“Surrender?”

He gave the slightest of nods. He halted the gentle stroke of Flynn’s cock under his hand, taking the little pot of slick and placing it into Flynn’s palm, closing his fingers over it. He brought it up to his lips to brush against his knuckles.

“Really?”

 _Westfall._ He made that a holy promise to himself. When he had passed the bandana into the girl’s hands, that was it, a ghost put to rest at last. Oh, Ed would surely still haunt his dreams, but no longer could he hold back because of a lover long since buried. The fight in him was gone.

Tonight belonged to him and Flynn and no one else.

“Really.”

He watched Flynn’s brows raise in joy, his eyes go glassy. His lips quirked in a threat of a smile.

“You trust me, yeah?”

He knew what Flynn meant every time he asked. Knew what he _wanted_ to ask. It thrilled and frightened him all the same. Belatedly, he could hear the echo of it in Edwin’s voice as barely a whisper. They had been too young to understand the magnitude, the implications, but Flynn… Flynn understood. Ask for patience and the pirate would deliver in spades. He never tried for more, and for that, Mathias was grateful.

He may be ready for tonight, but he wasn’t quite ready for that. Not yet. Not that he didn’t feel it mind, but he dared not let his head nor his mouth form the words.

“Yeah, I trust you.”

Flynn knit his brow, opening his hand and turning the little glass jar in his hand. Mathias could see the wheels turning in his head as they lay there facing each other on the bed, all the world gone quiet for the lingering silence passing between them.

“Well, this is a bit of a serious conundrum,” Flynn breathed, his eyes on the item between his fingers. He bit the corner of his lip, tilting his head. He clicked his jaw and lifted his eyes, opening his mouth to speak, but hesitating. “How long’s it been for you, mate?” he asked openly, genuinely.

Mathias blinked, not expecting the question. “Er, fifteen years or so?”

“And the last time. Given or taken?”

“I... was on the receiving end,” he muttered, and for Light’s sake, did he _not_ want to have this conversation right now.

Flynn nodded, his lip between his teeth again. “Right then,” he announced, passing the pot back into Shaw’s hands. “You’re doing the honors.”

“Wait, what?” Mathias asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I just assumed—“

“Just assumed, he says.” Flynn let out a small snorting chuckle and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Look, don’t get me wrong. This place? It’s nice and all, shined up like a bright new copper, it is. But, if it’s been over a decade since you’ve been claimed, I’d rather we do that once we get _home_. _Our_ home and _our_ bed.”

Mathias glanced down at the jar in his hand. He actually hadn’t thought of that. Damn Flynn and his undeniable logic. “You’re right,” he conceded.

“Now that that’s settled…” The captain plucked the jar back out of his hand and leaned over to place it on the nightstand within reach, capturing the spymaster’s lips in a languid kiss. Their touches were light, soft, deliberate. While they were no longer strangers to each other’s bodies, this was a wholly different exploration. Mathias could count on one hand how many times he’d just let go and enjoyed the taste and touch of a lover.

And fuck, how he’d _missed_ it.

At some point, Flynn had maneuvered himself underneath him, his hair spread out against the pillow and the leather throng that held his boar’s tail in place had taken up residence on Mathias’ wrist. Their breeches had long since been discarded, and the spymaster settled between the captain’s thick, strong thighs. He licked and nipped across Flynn’s chest, stopping to flick his tongue at a nipple or to suck a spot over one of the inked sparrows as his slicked fingers circled around the man’s puckered entrance. When he finally breached him, slow and careful, seating himself fully inside, he let out a suppressed breath, placing a hand on the man’s sternum and feeling his racing heartbeat beneath his fingers.

“And how long for you?”

“Me?” Flynn asked between pants. “Two, three years? Give or take.”

Mathias shot him a pointed look. “You’re telling me that you’ve been _celibate_ for the better part of _maybe_ three years,” he scoffed incredulously.

“No, just haven’t bottomed out in that amount of time. Now, will you please _move?_ ”

He went slow, but no less powerful, each thrust punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips. He braced his hands on the bed astride Flynn’s ribs. The captain grabbed one of his wrists, giving a squeeze in time to the lazy rhythm he was establishing, his other hand worming it way between them to stroke himself as Mathias fucked him.

Eventually his pace quickened, his need for release overtaking all of his other senses. Soon enough, he was spilling into the pirate underneath him, his dick completely buried, his mouth open and dry for the breaths he was gulping. Everything tensed save for the small quivers that wracked through him. He felt a warm wetness between their bodies, the tightness surrounding his length clenching through Flynn’s own orgasm. He watched, enthralled, as a lazy grin played blissfully across the captain’s lips, his eyes slowly opening to meet his own. The captain tilted his head just slightly, his eyes roaming his face adoringly.

“There’s that—“

“Don’t,” Mathias warned. “Don’t say it.”

“What? You mean your soppy cum face?”

“Fuck you, Fairwind,” Mathias growled without any malice.

“A little late for that, mate,” Flynn teased. He pushed at the spymaster’s biceps, coaxing him to slip out of him. He sat up and left the bed, padding to the small ensuite to fetch a damp cloth to clean themselves before settling back into the bed with a nuzzle to the spymaster’s temple.

Mathias let Flynn tangle himself around him, the familiarity of it seeping into his skin. They hadn’t shared a bed since Silvermoon, and absently he had missed it in their last few stops. He heaved a content sigh and let his eyes slip close.

“Did you find what you were looking for, by the way?”

“Yes,” he replied softly.

And he meant that in more ways than one.

**Both of You**

Mathias groaned, his body feeling a bit too heavy and the light spilling into the captain’s cabin windows a bit too bright. His head pounded, cursing the rush of crazed shardhorns trampling through his brain. Somewhere up on deck or perhaps a mile away, he could hear the sounds of a day’s work aboard the small vessel, Flynn calling out orders to his crew and the odd shanty being sung in the background. He grunted as he tried to sit up in the bed, using the heels of his hands to press his eyes back into his skull.

It had been quite some time since he last got fucked on a spliff, and even then it was some dryditch bruiseweed grown next to an outhouse of a Westfall farm. Baros would buy it off the cousin of one of his neighbors or some such. Edwin would comment that the worse it smelled, the better the kick, and the three of them would smoke it uncut underneath the window of Baros’ sister’s bedroom. The one they would tease him about because she harbored a crush for his scarlet hair and the freckles that dusted his nose. _She thinks you’re pretty_ , Edwin would chide.

Mathias could still see the look of devastation on her face when she’d caught him snogging Ed senseless against the wall of that very same spot as they waited for her brother to come back from the fields. She refused to talk to him for years, hurt that he hadn’t chosen _her_. It wasn’t until Baros died that she would give him the time of day, and even then the conversation had been curt. Now, he couldn’t even pull her name to his tongue if he tried.

The spliff he shared with Flynn the previous night, as well as the one he had stolen straight from his lips was a wholly different monster. He wasn’t quite prepared for the diluted Anchorweed to kick him in the face, even if the sex right after had been embarrassingly fantastic. Maybe it had been too long. Maybe he’d gotten too old.

Maybe it was Flynn’s words the night before.

_This have something to do with that bloke you refuse to talk about? Edwin?_

His brow furrowed, the headache deepening. He’d been thinking of Ed here and there, but the memory, the way he had plucked the roll from Flynn’s mouth like he had done so many times from Edwin before. It was like he was sixteen again in perfect crystal clarity.

He thought he had moved on, had let go, had taken a leap of faith. Flynn had been a light at the end, something that was his and his alone. No Pathonia. No Varian. No expectations. Just a beautiful man who had eyes only for him and a future to look forward to when his days with the Agency had waned.

And serving under Anduin? A chance. _Love._ Or the possibilities thereof.

He glanced at the bedside table, a flagon of fresh water and a small vial sat mocking him. He picked up the vial, uncorking it carefully to take a sniff. Rejuve potion, hangover cure. Flynn would know, he supposed. He downed the dose, the throbbing in his head quieting and the aches in his muscles loosening. With his mind clearing, his thoughts decided to take a wander towards the things Flynn had said to him.

_I think I’ve more than proven how much of a patient man I can be._

He had. He didn’t deserve his patience, didn’t deserve to ask it of him. They’d come so far, together. Flynn never tried to tear down the wall, not like Ed had. No, Flynn loosened the bricks one at a time, and asked for permission to remove them. All the while his lover was an open forum to any question Mathias would have, and even those he hadn’t asked at all. And just when he thought he’d learned everything about the man, he’d surprised him again.

 _I can’t take him away from you, and_ more _than that, I don’t want to. Whatever you two had shaped a lot of the mate I chose and I’d like very much to get to know_ both of you.

The words nearly knocked the breath out of him.

He had spent so much time and effort in keeping Edwin hidden, secret, his existence cloaked in an impenetrable shadow against his heart. Their names never appeared together in any file, only an official document filed in the Castle Registry ordering for his execution. When the guild was handed over to him and it became Stormwind Intelligence, he scoured the cold files for any and every shred of parchment that linked them together, hiding it all in a drawer without a key. He wasn’t so naive to think it hadn’t been rifled through. Light knew, Valeera had rifled through it on numerous occasions, but thus far nothing had been brought into question.

And here was Flynn, who simply wanted to be close, who wanted to get to know the man he bedded, who wanted _more_ than a quick tumble on his bed.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. It was too damned early for him to lament it over. The potion had worked its way through his system and now his body was screaming for coffee. He put it out of his mind, for now, lifting from the bed. He found one of his jumpers, two sizes two big and cabled with creamy soft yarn, a gift from Amber ages ago. He tossed it over his head and slipped into a pair of woolen breeches before heading towards the mess in his search of his beloved caffeine.

**The Dagger of Stormwind**

Mathias cracked open the window behind his old armchair, letting some of the cool air into the flat to stave off the humidity from the loo. He had declined joining Flynn in the bath, having showered at first light when he woke, opting instead to try his hand at some paperwork brought over by Renzik. However, finding that the ciphers didn’t contain any new intel, he had traded them out for the ominous sketchbook to read through the letters of his late grandfather again, trying to piece together a life that wasn’t really his.

“You’re brooding again,” Flynn chided teasingly, sliding the pocket door behind him and brushing through his damp tresses with a practiced hand. His skin held a sheen of damp from the shower and his sage-green sleep pants hung low on his hips.

Mathias gave a small shrug. “I can’t focus on my paperwork.” He closed the book and stretched, allowing a few small pops to loosen the tension along his spine. “I keep reading the same stupid thing over and over.”

“It’s ‘cause you’re not in your fancy office wearing your leathers.” Flynn dropped into the seat adjacent to him and took his hand in his, his forearm resting against the lacquered wood and proudly displaying the crisp lines and bright colors of his newest ink.

Mathias reached out and traced over his dagger, running from pommel to blade and back again. “I still can’t get over the detail that went into this,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“I told you Inksprocket’s a gem. And I happen to know your daggers as well as I know my own blades.” Flynn gave him a soft smile. He glanced up, feeling how much the captain was enjoying his scrutiny of his arm.

“I just can’t figure out how you managed the accuracy of Ed’s sword. It’s impeccable,” he breathed, his fingers moving to press against the blade of the ghosted sword in the background.

Flynn let out a light chuckle. “You sketched it in my field journal.”

Mathias lifted his eyes, his brow furrowed. “Yours?”

The captain nodded. “I stumbled upon it when I was flipping through the pages one night. I was a titch bored.”

Shaw gave a tilt of his head. “That explains why I couldn’t find it when I was finalizing the report to hand in,” he muttered, tracing his fingers back down to the roses. “And these?”

“Granddad,” the captain replied. “I know you still have that rosebud I gave you pressed in a book somewhere, you sentimental dolt.”

Mathias hummed. “So that explains it,” he chewed on his upper lip. “Renzik mentioned someone had been leaving flowers on Pathonia’s grave,” he answered Flynn’s questioning look. “I wonder now if he had been leaving them at Ed’s as well.”

“Possible,” remarked his lover as he started to trace the lines with a feather soft touch again.

They had been through so much, it felt that it had been a lifetime. They had started to build a life around one another, and the nightmares came less and less. He was no longer alone, and neither was Flynn for that matter. He idly wondered if there would be a day when neither couldn’t remember a time without the other.

 _Mathias, don’t you see? He_ has _been good for you. But_ you’re _the lighthouse that beckons him_ home.

“I can hear you thinking, mate.”

“I’m not,” he replied absently.

“You’re a bloody liar. It sounds like one of those gnomish robot dogs.”

“Sometimes, I still wonder why you’d waste your time with a broken old man like me,” the spymaster confessed softly. He felt the hand clasped around his tug sharply and he lifted his eyes, Flynn’s boring into his very soul.

“First of all, you’re not old, and please don’t look at me like that. You’re _not_. Second of all, if there’s not a little bit of a challenge, then where’s the fun in that? You’re worth _every_ ounce of stubbornness you throw at me.” He gave a small squeeze and a warm smirk.

Mathias could tell there was something else at the tip of the captain's tongue. The man was just _itching_ to get it out. “And third?”

Flynn blew out a breath, the grin turning lecherous. “The face you make when you cum is bloody gorgeous.”

“You mean _soppy_.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it, mate. You did.”

The spymaster let out a chuckle with a shake of his head. “Get dressed,” he commanded gently. “Let’s take a walk.” That earned a curious raise of a brow. “It’s been a while since I’ve paid my respects, and I’d like you to come with me.”

Flynn leaned in and nuzzled the man’s temple, kissing his cheek down to the corner of his mouth. “I think I’d like that too, mate,” he whispered against his lips.

**And The One After That**

Mathias leaned against the cold stone wall of the Sanctum of the Sages. By his count, Flynn had two minutes and thirty seven seconds to get his arse there so they could go through the portal. He had run over the plan three times on his walk from the _Middenwake_ to the chamber: head to the office to grab supplies and brief Shiv, run through the flat to change into a fresh set of leathers and for Flynn to grab an extra set of civvies, take the tunnel to the Keep to leave his requisitions on Anduin’s desk, and then back to the portal to step through with his operative.

Truth be told, the message scared the shit out of him. He hadn’t seen much on the situation in Icecrown that demanded his attention. He’d sent a few agents off to find out what was going on, and there were reports coming back with assignments handled in that realm. There was still plenty here to keep him occupied, between Flynn, the Kingdom and everything else that they let him deal with.

But this? A ciphered message in Amber’s hand? Amber, who had _died_ for him? Just what in the hell had they gotten themselves into?

“Hey.” He turned his gaze to the entrance of the Sanctum, finding Taelia crossing the threshold, Anduin and Flynn in tow. “Look who I found breaking into my bed chamber,” she teased with a thumb thrown over her shoulder.

“Ah, yes.” Mathias rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “All taken care of, as you can see.”

“You owe me one, you know,” Taelia sing-songed as she gave him a quick hug.

The spymaster lifted a brow. “So you _did_ send me to see a man about a coin purse, didn’t you, Lass.”

“Might’ve done.”

“Flynn told us you’re taking an assignment?” Anduin asked as he slipped an arm into Taelia’s coat to rest against the small of her back. Mathias flicked his glance at the captain, meeting a guilty expression upon his brow.

“You’ve barely told me what’s going on, ‘cept that we’re hopping a portal,” he offered with a shrug.

Mathias assessed their surroundings, careful of eavesdroppers. “It’s fine.” He took a shaky breath. “I received a message from a… _former_ operative. Flynn and I are going to investigate.”

“Former?” Taelia asked. “What do you mean by _former?_ ”

His brow furrowed in grief. “She’s dead. Has been for a few years now.” The girl’s eyes went wide and her lips parted in shock. Mathias watched her flick glance to Anduin, worrying her lip between her teeth. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

“We managed to capture the woman responsible for Flynn’s affliction,” Anduin began. “Taelia told me that you had encountered her as well.”

“Wendigo,” Mathias muttered. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“I left her in the care of Mr Fell and his companion. They think she may have slipped here from beyond the veil, the situation in Icecrown. I’ve been assured that we won’t see her lurking around any time soon,” Anduin reported. “I’d like to open further investigations on this matter, however. Something’s not sitting right about it.”

“I have to brief Renzik before we go, and I already have some agents in the field. I’ll see if we have the spare numbers to send more and start reporting back.” Mathias didn’t fail to notice the small nudge Anduin gave the girl.

“Wendy, she said things. _Disturbing_ things.”

“Like what?” he asked cautiously.

“Someone called the Stonewright. That they wanted to reclaim what was theirs,” she replied, uneasiness and fear crossing her face and lacing her voice. “Mathias, she was talking about _you_.”

“We’ll be careful, Tae,” Flynn reassured, placing a hand on her shoulder before pulling her into a burly hug. “I’ve got his back and he’s got mine.”

The girl pulled back and stepped to the spymaster once more, pushing her arms around his waist and burrowing her face into his chest. He held her tightly for several moments, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head. His eyes sought Flynn’s.

There was worry in that gaze. He had seen it before. And you gave me a look, Mathias. Such a look. But, there was more. And it was bursting.

_Love._

The three of them. Flynn, Taelia, and Anduin. Family. They looked upon him as a person to care for them and to be cared for. He was no longer nothing more than a weapon to be used to fit the means of the Crown. He didn’t think Anduin was the type of man to see _anyone_ like that.

_Did you say you loved me last night?_

_Yes, I did._

Why did it take him so long? It was there, all along. It was a simple yet oh, so complicated progression, and really, Flynn was all he could see of tomorrow. And the day after that, and the one after that.

_You love me, yeah?_

_Yeah, I love you._

“We have to go,” Mathias whispered into Taelia’s hair, gently extracting her arms from around him.

“We’ll come back safe,” Flynn added reassuringly.

And with that, he turned towards the portal, holding out his hand, the captain’s slipping into it because it was _made_ to be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lovelies for joining me on this little detour before the shit hits the fan. I've added so much to my little list of things I'm proud of and things that amuse the fuck out of me. Going to take about a week, week and a half to get outlines done for the next installment. And super thank you @mice for helping with some of my anxiety. You rock, my Fairshaw fairy godparent!
> 
> Comments are as always welcome and appreciated! Oh, and they love the fuck out of Mathias. <3


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